Efficiency may not be a strong point here, but at least things get done. I last wrote about how I was supposed to get my money back from the tourism office for my lack of Gorilla trekking. Well, it was supposed to happen before noon on Thursday (the day I left, or so I told them), but did not occur. So, I went back in on Friday with a look of death in my eyes. The man I was dealing with, Faustin, was slightly scared and invited me to sit down. He called the travel agent, who was trying to keep my money, to come in and bring me cash or she would be suspended. While we were waiting for her to arrive, he gave me some handmade Rwandan baskets and a…gorilla pen. With a whistle. Then he asked me what I was going to tell Canadians about Rwanda. He was very concerned it wouldn’t be positive. Then he asked if I was single.
Eventually, the chick showed up and gave me my money back, in cash form. No bank transfer required, and I’m heading to Egypt with real money as opposed to an ATM card and a hefty load of hope.
We split up a little recently—mostly, I split off from the group. The others went to church with Faustin, our guide. I wasn’t feeling it (which was good, as it was super Evangelical with people speaking in tongues) so I bailed and went to Bourbon Coffee, the expat Starbucks with free wireless internet. I met up with Sara’s mother’s group, randomly (there is also a group of 30 Canadian educators here, mostly from Ontario) and we headed over to Hotel des Mille Collines (Hotel Rwanda) for a drink. Mmm drink.
Another great Bourbon Coffee experience occurred the next day—when we met a survivor at the UTC. I had been put in touch with this gentleman by an acquaintance who said he was incredible, and someone I definitely have to meet. Without knowing anything at all about him, I felt like we should try and meet—and was it ever worth it. He’s an incredible young man, only 29, who is working for an organization that does education and promotes peace and understanding in schools. We learned that Rwanda doesn’t actually teach Rwandan history—not modern history, that is. It is difficult to teach and not pit students against each other, but there is also no denying historical fact. Patrick, the survivor, also told us a bit about his life and of his dream to help other survivors. He used to play on the hills of Kibuye and herd cows with his grandfather, who used to tell him marvelous stories. He was a city boy, but was always happiest there and didn’t want to leave. His grandfather was well respected and known, but rivals sent the Interhamwe after him and he was killed on the hillside while herding his cows. His grandfather had even given Patrick a cow, and he hoped to find at least that one—unfortunately, it had been killed an eaten by the Interhamwe—who stole all of his grandfather’s cows and buried him on the hillside. His dream is to someday build a house on that land and buy a herd of cows—so that survivors can live there and be given another chance. Truly an incredible guy.
Tonight was Sara’s bday—I won’t say what age because she’s sensitive about it—and we took her out to dinner at a fantastic restaurant with a strange name. AMAZING pizza. Don’t make any comments about the food choice- I’ve been eating a lot of beans and rice and it was a welcome change!
C’est tout for now—leaving very soon. Not quite ready to say goodbye to this country!
1 comment:
The gorilla pen really makes it all worth it, doesn't it? Also, I love that you skipped church to hang out in the Starbucks of Africa, I would expect no less.
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